


"Alone..."

by Purple_Girl



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Crying orgasm, Edward on Drugs, Episode 3x15, Episode Related, Hallucinations, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Nygmobblepot, One Shot, Singing, Smut, That Hallucination Was Pretty Gay Ed Admit It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_Girl/pseuds/Purple_Girl
Summary: Edward experiences some unexpectedly erotic feelings when his drug-induced image of Oswald begins to sing a sultry song for him; who knew that scruffy little Oswald could be so sensual? Ed certainly didn't, at least that's what he thinks at first, but then again, the hallucination IS a product of his own subconscious... It's time to face up to some deeply-hidden feelings, and all the agony that comes with it.





	"Alone..."

**Author's Note:**

> One of my absolute favourite Nygmobblepot scenes is when Edward hallucinates Oswald's sexy singing extravaganza. I thought it'd be fun to do a fic where Ed has a little sexy time with his vision of Oswald after the sing-song ends, but it actually took a quite angsty turn rather than being the upbeat ficlet I'd intended. I don't usually write angst but it felt like the natural flow for this one. 
> 
> I heavily quoted the dialogue from the episode's scene to start with, naturally; apologies if that bothers anyone for some reason.
> 
> ****************************************************************************************

“I have to go,” Edward muttered, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and hitching it up over his shoulders, his eyes cast downward, determined not to engage his Oswald hallucination any further. He’d had enough of bickering with the pompous, drug-fuelled vision of the mocking little man he had murdered; it was one thing when Oswald was giving him useful advice, but he had no patience for a scathing lecture. He had places to be, and plans to set in motion.

He took hold of his lapels to straighten them, when the room around him was suddenly bathed in a low red light, and he heard the unmistakable yowl of a record being scratched, and… was that the flutter of an old-fashioned projector? What was going on?

Looking up in confusion, he saw Oswald standing under the arched entryway leading to the next room, with his back to Ed. The red of the light was at its most vibrant concentration directly beneath the arch. Music had begun to play, though from where he couldn’t work out; it could almost have been seeping from the air and the walls.

“What are you doing?” Edward frowned, annoyed that he’d retracted on his refusal to interact with him.

Oswald spun around, revealing himself to be in a dapper black suit with a crisp white shirt, matching white gloves, and holding an elegant top hat in front of his chest. His hair was slicked back, like he had often worn it during his mayoral campaign; he looked nothing like the dirty, water-logged version of Oswald who had been deriding him moments before. Ed was baffled by the change; and then, Oswald opened his mouth and began to sing.

“ _He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts_ …” 

As the illusion sang, he looked straight at Ed, who could only watch in silent astonishment, swallowing hard, trying his best to glare threateningly through his confusion.

“ _He floats me with dread_...”

Each word was soft, deliberate, a sensuous whisper, making the room seem to spin; it was absurdly provocative, and… _erotic_. Ed had never before considered that the word erotic could ever fit with the abrasive, awkward little Penguin, and he was alarmed that his mind had jumped to such a thought. He pulled off his glasses suddenly, as though being less able to clearly see what was happening could somehow make the realisation more bearable, and lightly pressed his fingers against his eyes.

“ _Soaked in soul_ …”

The lips forming the words of the haunting song curled around them sensually, as if tasting them as well as singing them, pouting in a way that Edward was horrified to find appealing; the way that beautiful – beautiful! Oswald?! – mouth was moving gave rise to a flood of embarrassingly obscene images in Ed’s mind. He exhaled hard, trying to steady the suddenly wild pounding of his heart (when had that started?) as he watched, completely unable to turn away, mortified to find himself looking Oswald up and down.

“ _He swims in my eyes, by the bed_ …”

The Oswald-illusion almost purred the lyrics, while caressing the top of his hat slowly with one hand, his subtly pink lips glistening under the light. He looked utterly seductive as he sang, his surprisingly sweet voice practically making love to the song. Ed could barely believe it, but he was feeling a powerful stirring of arousal as he watched Oswald’s fingers suggestively stroke the fabric of the hat.

_You have to admit, he actually looks… sexy_ , his mind whispered to him. _Very sexy, in fact. Isn’t that interesting?_

Appalled by his mind’s admittance, Ed slapped himself hard across the face, trying to shake the shamefully erotic thoughts that were now sweeping through his head, and the mortifying – but undeniably pleasant - sensation in his crotch. He could’ve sworn that the hallucinatory Oswald was smirking behind his words, just a little bit of a grin, to show Ed that he knew exactly what he was feeling, and exactly where he was feeling it.

“ _Pour myself over him_ …”

Ed hurriedly put his glasses back on and tried to stare confidently at Oswald, as if he could fool him into thinking that he was having no effect on him at all. Even through the music, Edward could hear the heaviness of his breathing as he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his rapt gaze stuck on Oswald’s mouth and his blue eyes. Had they always been so blue?

“ _Moon spilling in_ …”

Oswald’s head tipped back and his eyes closed, his face radiant, his features exuding sensual bliss; Ed’s nostrils flared as he breathed in sharply, desperate for the crazed whirling of the room to slow down, and for the now-raging hardness of his cock to ease off. He was momentarily glad for the red hue in the room, as it hid the fevered blush on his cheeks.

_How dare he, this is humiliating_ , he growled internally to his racing mind. 

_But you’re clearly enjoying it_ , was the teasing reply. His lips trembled with mounting anger at the ridiculousness of the situation he had put himself in, at the tent he was pitching in his pants, at the fucking gorgeous little man’s performance…

“ _And I wake up… alone_ …”

Oswald stared directly at Edward then, the hint of a smile gone, only the seriousness of the final word’s implication in those pretty eyes, and twirled the hat backwards onto his head. The image of him was becoming garbled and warped as the sexually-charged lyrics tickled Edward’s excitement, and he wouldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t take it. 

How dare anyone humiliate him this way, how dare the obnoxious Penguin try to muddle his emotions so brazenly?!

“ENOUGH!” Ed yelled at the top of his lungs, slamming his open hands down onto the desk, the loud smack of contact with the wood instantly dispelling the red light, the music, and the rampant spinning of the room. Even Oswald’s appearance was immediately transformed back to the damp, bedraggled visage that he’d come to expect.

Ed’s arm shot out and he pointed at Oswald, rage flashing in his eyes.

“I ADMIT that killing you killed a part of me,” he shouted, willing his voice not to waver as Oswald began to walk towards him, “but I will find a way forward, no matter the cost!” He dropped his arm as the vision reached the desk; Oswald stood watching him, unflinching, unperturbed.

“I WILL be born anew!” Edward snarled, pissed off at how comfortable the stare of his dead friend was. His bottom lip wavered very slightly and he forced himself to maintain Oswald’s gaze. “And I will leave you behind,” he added, his voice a low hiss.

“Penguin saw you, Ed,” Oswald retorted, still staring, barely a blink, “he was the only one, he _made_ you!”

Ed turned away, and stepped aside to leave the room, his teeth set on edge. 

“THERE IS NO ED NYGMA WITHOUT THE PENGUIN!” The illusion screamed at his back, such sudden anger and vitriol in the voice that it made Ed stop dead, and turn back to face him.

“I’m not going to be Ed Nygma anymore, damn you!” he snapped. “I’m going to be reborn as someone better, someone who doesn’t need YOU! I already killed you and there was nothing you could do to stop me. You went down with one bullet, from MY gun, after I _tricked_ you, I got you exactly where I wanted you, and I ENDED you.”

Oswald tilted his head slightly to one side, his pale, death-blue lips pursed tightly together, his expression unreadable.

Feeling more confident now, Ed stepped closer until he was standing in front of the shorter man, and leaned his face menacingly into Oswald’s.

“So what is it exactly that makes you think I need you?” he demanded.

“Well, there’s the fact that I’m here,” Oswald replied coolly. “I’m here _only_ because you took drugs to _make_ me appear. Obviously, you keep doing it because you KNOW you need me.”

Ed gritted his teeth and tried to think of an answer to that, as his eyes darted uncomfortably around the room, while his friend slowly looked him up and down.

“Or maybe it’s not entirely because you _need_ Penguin,” Oswald replied, raising one pointed eyebrow as his gaze alighted at the pronounced swelling at Ed’s crotch, which was refusing to go down. “Maybe it’s also because you _want_ him.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Ed barked, his reply a little too quick and a little too vehement. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, and crossed his hands together self-consciously over his tell-tale bulge.

“Are you sure, Edward?” Oswald smirked suggestively. 

Yet another record-scratch shriek reverberated in the air, and the soft, sultry music from before began to fill the space around them. The dim red light also descended again, and in the time it took for Ed to blink once, Oswald had transformed once again into the fresh-faced, stylish version of him that he had taken on when he first started singing. 

“Don’t you dare,” Ed glowered.

“Didn’t you like the show? It appears to me that you did,” Oswald smirked, reaching out one gloved hand suddenly to shove Ed’s hands out of the way of his crotch, and ran a fingertip firmly down the length of his erection.

Edward drew in a quick breath and shook his head adamantly, “you’re wrong. Stop this nonsense right now.”

“Need I remind you, dear Ed, that you’re the one creating this conversation?” Oswald said, laying the flat of his hand directly over Ed’s cock, which was responding heartily to the attention. “Whatever I’m doing, can only be what you want me to do.”

“You’re wrong,” Ed repeated, his voice wavering slightly. His inner voice noted that he wasn’t making any move to get away from Oswald’s touch, yet even recognising that, he still stood fast, and his cheeks flushed even redder than they already were. “I’m not an idiot, don’t you think I would be aware if I had wanted you in… in that way?”

“So explain this. Please, enlighten me,” Oswald replied, his lips forming into a little smile as he began to caress the front of Ed’s straining trousers. The cotton glove against the slightly shiny polyester made a soft, whispering noise, just audible beneath the music. “Enlighten yourself. Admit to yourself what you’re trying so hard to deny, and maybe we can stop the charade with those damnable drugs before you do yourself serious harm.”

“Stop it,” Ed whispered harshly, closing his eyes, and bringing both hands up to cover them.

Oswald’s hand pressed more insistently, before taking hold of Ed’s zipper and yanking it down, stripping off his glove and forcing his hand into the open front of the trousers. Ed gasped as he felt the surprisingly real sensation of Oswald’s warm hand curling around his member, but didn’t uncover his face. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, and could only imagine how flushed his face was.

Why was this happening?

“You miss him,” Oswald’s voice said softly in reply to the thought, closer to Ed’s ear than he was expecting; the little man had leant up close to his face, he could feel hot breath against the back of his hands. 

Ed grudgingly lowered his hands, glaring at his relentless hallucination, who batted his dark eyelashes in a flirtatiously exaggerated fashion. Oswald began to stroke Ed’s dick slowly, tightening his grip slightly each time his hand reached the tip, and relaxing it again on each downward stroke. His thumb pressed into the ridge just beneath the swollen head and began to move it in gentle circles in between strokes.

Hard as a rock, Ed couldn’t stifle a groan at the sensation.

“Admit that you miss Penguin,” illusion-Oswald murmured, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose up against Ed’s chin. “You knew yourself best when he was with you, didn’t you? And you know he could have helped make you so much more than you already are.” 

His hand maintained its steady motion, never slowing, never speeding up. The sweet sensation was maddening, and Ed quickly found himself moaning softly every few moments, even though he felt utterly humiliated for not having enough resolution to push his friend away. He looked into Oswald’s glittering eyes, desperate not to listen to what he was saying, while at the same time fighting a sudden ludicrous urge to kiss his face.

“Despite what he did to _her_ , everything else he did for you is unquantifiable, the way it moulded you into the man you are now,” Oswald murmured. “You know you do still need him, to mould you further. You want him to. You miss him, because you liked him. You _liked_ him, liked his companionship. He was your _friend _. The only person in this whole Godforsaken city who WANTED to be your friend! He was the only one who really loved you.”__

__Ed’s breath caught in his throat, and a tear escaped the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek and collecting under his chin, quickly followed by another. “Isabella…”_ _

__“She was insane, and you know it,” Oswald tutted softly. “She found out you had murdered your last girlfriend - with whom she shared an identical face - and what did she do? She changed herself to look even more like the girl you killed! She was messing with your mind. She had known you five minutes, and she acted like an obsessed lunatic. That wasn’t love, Edward. And you didn’t love her. You were only captivated because her face gave you hope for a second chance, that’s all. It was nothing like the love he had for you. He _really_ knew you, and he loved what he knew.”_ _

__Ed swallowed hard and turned his face away, angry with himself over his tears, angry that Oswald was talking about Isabella this way, and even angrier that what he was saying actually made a twisted kind of sense. The music in the room swirled around his head, and while the sensation in his crotch was delicious, part of him felt like screaming his confusion aloud until there was nothing left in the room but himself, and not even that._ _

__“Please,” Ed said, his voice so weak it scarcely came out._ _

__Oswald’s grip on him tightened a little more, still caressing up and down his rigid length at the same pace; it was at once the most soothing thing Ed could remember feeling in a long time._ _

__“Please what, Edward?” Oswald asked, and Ed felt the man’s other hand rest lightly on his turned cheek, guiding his face back towards him gently._ _

__Edward broke into a full flood of tears as he found himself facing Oswald again; at the piercing eyes, red-tinted in the light, at the strange but endearing face that he had last seen in the real world sinking below the grimy waters of the dock, clouded in red then too, but not light, not light… darkness, dark water, the red bloom his free-flowing blood…_ _

__“Please… please stop talking as if you’re not really him,” Ed sobbed, thrusting his slender arms out to grab the little man and clutch him to his body in a fevered embrace._ _

__He pressed his cheek into black sleek hair, his body trembling, willing his tears to stop, though they ignored him. His body was shaking, both from crying and from the warmth coursing through his whole body from Oswald’s patient hand. The pressure on his cock was heavier now that he had basically pinned the smaller man against him, and Oswald’s fist was forced harder into its grip, yet he managed not to relent his ministrations._ _

__“I loved you dearly, Edward,” Oswald said quietly, his face partially muffled by Ed’s chest. “And I know you feel the same, deep down. Maybe not so deep, though; maybe only just beneath the surface?”_ _

__Edward’s breath was becoming a rapid panting as he drew close to coming, choking on his tears, making it even harder to breathe. He gripped onto Oswald as tightly as he could, his bleary eyes staring blankly out into the room in front of them, determined not to look at his friend's earnest face again, dreading the agony that would come with it if he did._ _

_He’s right, he’s right and you know it_ , his inner voice growled. _You do love him too. You love him, you need him, and you killed him. You were too rash. You’re a complete fool, Nygma._

__

__

__Ed squeezed his eyes shut and gasped loudly, his knees buckling slightly, as Oswald finally brought his orgasm crashing down on him, and he exhaled hard repeatedly, a soft whimper accompanying each breath. He slumped against Penguin, his face rosy from both his tears and his pleasure. He realised his glasses had slipped and were about to fall from his nose; he raised a hand to push them back up, the other hand still clinging onto the back of Oswald’s jacket._ _

__With a sigh, Oswald pulled away from his hold, taking a step back and withdrawing his hand from Ed’s pants. He glanced down at the thick ejaculate covering his fingers, and nonchalantly whipped his hand downwards, casting most of it off onto the floor. He gave a flippant shrug at the mess, and hopped up to perch on the edge of the desk beside them, gazing intently at Ed._ _

__Under the stare, Edward felt an overwhelming desire to drop to the floor and curl up silently, to mourn his many losses with his face pressed to the rough carpet. He sniffed hard to clear his stuffy nose, and sheepishly pulled up his zipper, before wiping his teary cheeks with one hand. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he made to sit on the table edge beside his friend._ _

__“So, how do you feel now that’s out of your system, Mister Chess Killer?” Oswald asked, his voice lightly teasing, but not unkind like before._ _

__“I feel… angry, and… confused.” Ed took a deep breath and released a long, slow sigh. “Why did you kill her? Why couldn’t you have just told me how you felt, without causing me to feel so enraged that all I could think about was killing you in turn? Who knows how different things could be right now if only you hadn’t let your visceral gut reaction control you, like you always did; that part of you frustrates me so much.” He glanced sideways, “I know it must have been a shock, and a painful one, when I came home and told you about Isabella; but why wouldn’t you just tell me the truth before things got so ugly?”_ _

__“I can’t answer that,” Oswald replied softly. “I’m not him, Edward. I’m you, and you don’t know. You never will, and he’ll never know the truth about your feelings either.”_ _

__Ed was silent for a moment, furiously blinking back fresh tears. “I only arrive once change is impossible, my baggage is heavy but difficult to put down, and I may never leave,” he murmured. “What am I?”_ _

__“Remorse,” Oswald said quietly. “At least now you’re aware of how you really feel. You have to be able to be honest with yourself, if you’ve any hope of knowing yourself without him. And you need to lay off the hallucinogenics. He wouldn’t approve of that.”_ _

__“I’m not ready to let you… to let him go,” Edward muttered, turning to lift the small pill box from the desk, stuffing it defiantly into his jacket’s inner pocket. “Not yet.”_ _

__At that moment, the music that had been gradually fading tapered off completely, and the light in the room returned to normal, the red glow bleeding away back into the ether. Ed felt a sudden chill, and finally lifted his eyes from the floor; he felt a terrible ache in his stomach when he looked at Oswald and saw that his appearance had reverted once again to the deathly pale version of him he had watched sink beneath the water._ _

__“In that case, I recommend you use these moments to try and come to terms with the way things are, and the way they’re inevitably going to be,” Oswald said, rolling his eyes. “I still say that trading in your anonymity which gives you a great advantage is utterly insane, but go ahead, let’s see how far you make it. Once you realise it’s going to end in disaster, maybe you’ll accept that what I’ve been saying to you is in your best interests.”_ _

__Edward was about to reply, when the room seemed to shift around him - not physically exactly, more like some of the colours had become strangely muted, and everything had warped a little to the left for a split second, almost like an anaglyph 3D image – and then his illusion of Oswald was gone. Ed looked at the spot where he had been sitting, frowning in bewilderment as the room settled again, feeling the loss of his friend even more acutely than ever._ _

__He got to his feet again abruptly before the lingering threat of more tears struck him again, and brusquely smoothed down the front of his suit, then ran a hand over his hair to check it was reasonably in place. He glanced at the splashes of cooled semen on the floor and ignored the surge of embarrassment in his chest, refusing to acknowledge the indignity of what had just taken place. He could still feel a tingling afterglow of gratification, which was nestled uncomfortably alongside the pain he was feeling. His mixture of emotions was frustrating, confusing, and he despised being confused._ _

__Shaking his head sharply as if it could somehow snap his mind away from the afternoon’s events, he set his teeth firmly together and fastened a single button on the front of his jacket, walking across the room with his head held up, in an air of confidence he hoped he could convince himself he truly felt._ _

__He reached the door, and for one agonising moment, he was almost sure he heard the faintest shuffle behind him of Penguin’s tell-tale walk. He yanked the door open to leave, alone._ _

__He didn’t look back._ _

__

__The End_ _


End file.
